


In Extremis

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-09
Updated: 2006-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Malcolm finds himself nursing Trip through radiation poisoning. Postep, 4.13 "United." (02/27/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Set during Season 4, following directly from the end of 4.13 "United" and ending during 4.14 "The Aenar." Malcolm's POV. This story is NOT AU.  


* * *

"I'm puttin' you on report."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. "You're what?" I asked, incredulous.

"You disobeyed a direct order."

Yes, I did, but only after I'd thought of a way to disable the drone ship without being detected by our unseen adversary; at least, not until it was too late. I couldn't just let him die. "I saved your life!"

He shrugged, carelessly, and my hackles rose. How could he, after everything we'd been through? Suddenly I was off on a rant.

"If you put a reprimand in my file it could be years before I'm even eligible for pr-" I stopped short as I heard him giggle. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"Mal," he giggled. "Malcolm, you're just such an easy target." He tossed his glove at me as I fought to keep a straight face. I caught it and threw it back at him as he wandered over to his locker, laughing even harder than before, and I finally gave in and joined him. It's this kind of good-natured teasing that makes our friendship so strong.

But after a few moments his laughter turned into a coughing fit and he stumbled into the bench. In a trice I was at his side.

"Trip?"

He glanced up at me, his eyes filled with fear, as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He'd turned suddenly pale, and when I put my hand against his face his skin felt cold and clammy.

Radiation poisoning. I'd introduced an emergency inoculant into his air supply back on the drone ship, but I knew even then it was only a stop-gap measure: just enough to get him awake and moving. Until now he'd been running on adrenalin, and it had suddenly run out.

"Reed to Phlox." I spoke into the comm. "We have a medical emergency. Please report to the decon chamber. Radiation exposure protocol."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," the doctor's voice came back. "I'm on my way."

As I turned back to Trip I could see he was fading fast.

"Stay with me, Trip," I urged, and I got a feeble smile in return. I helped him out of the rest of his EV suit, then hastily shed my own and placed them both in the hazardous waste bin. My level of exposure was much lower than Trip's, but I wasn't taking any chances.

"Upsadaisy," I said, pulling his arm over my shoulders as I stood him up and helped him stagger into the decon chamber proper, where Doctor Phlox and Captain Archer were already waiting for us on the other side of the quarantine screen. I laid Trip down on the narrow bunk and tried to make him comfortable before I turned to them.

"You administered the inoculant?" Phlox asked, and I nodded. "Then use this," he held up a small jar, "to scrub the commander's skin, and your own. It should prevent the worst of the lesions and hair loss. And this," he held up a hypospray, "will clean the isotope from your tissues. You will only require a single dose, Lieutenant, but Commander Tucker will need one every two hours."

"Understood," I told him, grabbing the medication as he passed it through the hatch.

"Commander Tucker will need to remain in decon for at least another twenty-four hours until his level of contamination subsides."

I glanced over at Trip. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, although whether he was unconscious or simply resting, I couldn't tell. His breathing was laboured and I could see a sheen of perspiration on his skin, and I knew he wouldn't be able to care for himself if he was left on his own.

"I'll stay with him," I said. "I've already been exposed. There's no sense in contaminating any of the medical staff."

Phlox nodded sagely.

"Wait a minute, you'll need to debrief," the Captain said.

"I'll upload the data from our scanners and tell you as much as I can from here, Captain," I said. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer for Commander Tucker's report." I was anxious to get back to Trip and give him Phlox's medication before his symptoms became more serious. "If you'll excuse me, Doctor, Captain."

I turned away from the window without waiting for a reply and pressed the hypospray to Trip's neck, then my own. His eyes fluttered open at the touch of the cold metal on his skin, but they were glassy and unfocused.

"Mal?" he muttered as I gently rolled him onto his side. I knew he was likely to vomit at some point.

"I'm here, Trip."

"Don't...don't feel so good." He licked at dry lips.

"I know," I said, wishing I could magically make him well again. "You'll be alright, but the next day or so is going to be rough."

He tried to say something more, but he ended up coughing and gagging, bringing up more blood in the process.

"You my nurse?" he said, weakly, as I cleaned him up.

I smiled. "Yeah, that's me. Nurse Malcolm." I'm sure he'd get a kick out of knowing it's a profession I did actually consider at one point, before I discovered a love of weaponry. I settled instead for qualifying as a field medic as a complement to my armaments training.

"No offence, but I'd prefer Crewman Cutler. She's prettier."

My smile widened. "Well, I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"S'okay. You're kinda cute too."

I laughed out loud at that, gratified that even in this state he could find the energy to joke with me, even if I found his material a bit near the knuckle.

Twenty-four hours alone in decon with Trip. I should have been in heaven, but I was far too worried about Trip's condition to find any enjoyment in this situation.

He drifted in and out of consciousness as I stripped him to his briefs and applied the balm Phlox had provided. At least it didn't smell as bad as some of the doctor's other remedies. Under different circumstances I might have taken a guilty pleasure in running my hands over his bare, golden skin and feeling the play of his muscles beneath it. In my dreams my lips would have followed; nibbling at an earlobe, trailing feather-light kisses over his shoulders and chest, sucking on a nipple, nuzzling his belly, dipping my tongue into his navel...I shook myself out of my daydream; it wasn't going to help Trip. I made sure to rub the balm into every bit of his exposed skin and worked the waxy substance into his hair and scalp, leaving him with a spiky hair-do I wasn't entirely sure he would forgive me for later. Then I took a deep breath to steady myself. There was only one place left to treat.

"Sorry, Trip," I muttered under my breath as I pulled down his briefs.

When I had finished I wrapped him up in a blanket, placed a pillow under his head and a bowl by his bedside, and hoped fervently that he'd never think about it hard enough to realise just how intimately I'd touched him.

As I stripped off my own EV undergarment and began to rub the balm into my skin I thought back to the conversation we'd had aboard the drone ship. I'd told him I was 'simply curious' about his intentions towards T'Pol now that her marriage is over, but in truth it was more than that. I'd wanted to hear him say it was over, that he no longer felt anything for her, and, even though I know he's never been interested in men before, I entertained some silly notion that he might turn his attention to me. At least half my wish was granted.

I discarded our clothing and dressed in a clean pair of the hospital-style pyjamas Phlox had begun to provide in decon after Trip was forced to run around the ship in his underwear once too often. Then I linked our scanners to the main computer and uploaded the data we had gathered, and sat down to begin work on my report for the Captain. As I turned towards Trip I noticed that his eyes were open, watching me. He seemed a little more alert, and I guessed the medication must have been taking effect.

"Decon again, huh?" he observed quietly. "Seems like Hoshi and me just got outa here."

I smiled faintly. I had avoided thinking about the mission, a few weeks ago, when Trip and Hoshi had fallen victim to a silicone-based virus. I should have been distraught as the man I love lay dying, yet my memories of the incident were oddly detached and lacking in emotional context. I found that disturbing in itself, but there was no-one I could confide in without revealing my feelings for Trip.

"How are you feeling?" I said softly as I dropped down on one knee beside him.

"Not so bad. Thirsty."

We'd exhausted the water supply in our suits during our second day on the drone ship, and neither of us had eaten anything for the three days we had been trapped. I realised I was also terribly hungry and thirsty.

I got a drink for myself and brought him some water, and he was able to prop himself up on one elbow to drink as I held the cup to his lips.

"Not too fast," I warned him as he tried to gulp it down.

He was still dreadfully weak, and after a few moments he began to tremble with the effort of holding himself up. He dropped back down on the bunk, breathing heavily.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"That's alright," I smiled as I brushed his hair back from his face. "Let's see if we can manage this a bit more comfortably."

He didn't resist as I pulled him up into a sitting position and came in to sit behind him, tucking the blankets around him again as he settled back against my chest. I held the cup to his lips again and he took a few more sips before his head rolled back against my shoulder.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

I continued to support him against my body as he slowly drank the cupful of water, stopping to let each mouthful settle in his stomach before he took the next. By the time he had finished his eyelids were drooping again, and moments later he was asleep in my arms. I gazed down at him, listening to his soft, even breaths, and before I could stop myself I leaned down to drop a gentle kiss on the top of his head. A few months ago I would never have dreamed of allowing myself to hold him like this, nor would Trip have submitted to it, but my ordeal at the hands of the Solorians and its aftermath had brought about a fundamental change in the way we related to each other. The way he had cared for me and most especially his use of neuro-pressure to help me sleep had torn down the last of the barriers that usually exist between even the closest of male friends: we were no longer afraid to offer each other physical comfort if one of us needed it. I'd read about men in the bloody wars of the twentieth century having similar experiences in extremis. It had nothing to do with homosexual sex or love in that sense: it was simply yielding to the comfort only a comrade could offer.

I held him for a long time, until a glance at the clock told me it was time for his medication. As I gently disengaged myself he stirred and woke.

"You look a bit brighter," I observed as I pressed the hypospray to his neck.

"Yeah. I guess the sleep did me some good."

He struggled to sit up, and I helped him swing his legs down off the bunk. "Do you think you're up to some food?"

"Yeah, and more water," he said, rubbing at his throat. "What's on the menu?"

I headed for the console to check, but we rejected many of the options as too heavy or spicy for Trip's convalescent stomach. "Ah, the very thing," I said as I scrolled to the end. "Do you fancy some chicken soup?"

"Sounds good." He gingerly lifted the blanket and glanced underneath, and I braced myself for the obvious question, but he only said: "I also fancy gettin' dressed. Is there another pair of those?" He gestured at my pyjamas.

By the time I'd helped him into them and we'd both drunk some more water, our soup had arrived. As it turned out Trip wasn't quite up to holding the bowl himself, and I ended up spoon-feeding him despite his grumbled protests.

"You're surprisingly good at all this," he said between mouthfuls.

I just smirked. "As I recall, you did something similar for me not so long ago. I was hoping I'd get to return the favour, but I didn't think it would be quite so soon."

He harrumphed a little laugh.

After our meal we both settled down to sleep. I admit I was exhausted after being awake for three days on the drone ship, but until that point my concern for Trip had kept me going. Now that he had turned the corner, it was starting to catch up with me. We spent most of the next twelve hours sleeping, only waking up when it was time for Trip's medication, then, after another, heartier, meal, we both began to feel Human again. In fact, as we worked together on our mission report, it was hard to believe Trip had been so unwell such a short time ago.

Doctor Phlox, as good as his word, finally let us out of decon twenty-five hours and forty-seven minutes after we'd been beamed onto the ship, and as I expected, the Captain was waiting impatiently for us.

"I assume the talks went well?" I said as I handed him the report.

He nodded. "The Tellarites have left, but Shran has agreed to stay and help us track down the marauder."

I was dubious. "Be careful, sir. Shran usually works to his own agenda."

"I'm aware of that, but we don't have much choice. We need authorisation from the Imperial Guard to move freely through Andorian space, and this is one of their conditions." He paused, taking in our still somewhat ragged appearance. "There's a staff meeting at 0800 hours, but you're both off-duty until then."

"Thank you, sir."

I was looking forward to getting some unbroken sleep. If I was lucky, maybe I would dream about Trip and decon.

* * *

I found him slumped against the wall outside my quarters. I hadn't seen Trip for more than a few minutes in the couple of days since we'd left the decon chamber. With Captain Archer off the ship searching for the Aenar with Shran, and Trip and T'Pol working on the telepresence unit in sickbay, it had fallen to me to keep the captain's chair warm on the bridge.

"Trip? Are you okay?"

He raised his head and looked up at me, his skin pale and his eyes dull with fatigue. Evidently he wasn't.

"I was headin' for my quarters. Guess I didn't quite make it."

His quarters weren't far away, but I decided it would be easier to care for him in mine. I helped him up and led him inside.

"When did you last eat?" I asked as I sat him down on my bunk.

"Uh...breakfast?" He didn't seem too sure.

I regarded him sternly. "And you've just done, what? A twelve hour shift?" It seemed Trip had pulled his usual stunt and not allowed himself enough time to recover before throwing himself back into his work.

He had the grace to look sheepish. "You're worse'n my Mom," he mumbled.

I rummaged around in my locker until I found my stash of high-energy ration bars. Not the most appetising meal, but I needed to raise his blood sugar quickly.

"Here," I said, handing him my last chocolate-flavoured one. "I'll make us some tea."

I put four sugars in his, and he grimaced as he tasted it, but he was already half way through the ration bar and beginning to come back to life.

"Nurse Malcolm to the rescue again, huh?"

I barked a laugh at the image he'd conjured up in my mind: myself, dressed in a nurse's uniform augmented by a cape and mask, charging to the rescue like some comic-book hero. Trip's preferred reading material was definitely rubbing off on me.

"Well, just don't undo all my good work."

He was staring intently down at his drink, a deep frown creasing his brow.

"I was sure I was gonna die, y'know," he said, so quietly that I could barely hear him. I set my mug down on the desk and went to sit, half-turned towards him, on the bed. "When I was sealed in that room on the marauder ship I could feel myself slipping away. You were on the other side of the door, and all I could think about was...was..."

He stammered, stopped, dropped his still half-full mug on the floor and came forward to close the gap between us. I could swear I heard violins as his lips closed over mine.

I'd imagined our first kiss a thousand times and in a thousand different ways. I'd imagined strolling hand-in-hand along a beach on some virgin planet, watching the sun set over the ocean, and then sliding a hand up behind his head to guide his mouth down towards mine as the waves lapped around our feet. I'd imagined turning my head and capturing his lips as we sat together in the back row on movie night. I'd imagined rolling him onto the floor, pinning him under me, and kissing him senseless during one of our hand-to-hand training sessions. I'd imagined slow, exploring kisses; hot, passionate kisses; and tender, loving kisses.

Nothing could have prepared me for the reality of feeling his soft, warm lips suddenly press against mine for the first time. I was transfixed: unable to move or breathe. I think even my heart stopped for a moment before it began to pound against my ribs. I could feel the tickle of his breath against my cheek and the warmth radiating from his skin, and then the wetness of his tongue as it nudged against my lips, seeking entry. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, allowing his tentative exploration. His tongue was sweet from the chocolate and the tea as he flicked it timidly just inside my lips, and that taste, in combination with the unique musky male scent of his body so close to me, was completely, wonderfully intoxicating. I was so surprised that it took me a while to realise I hadn't responded, and at last my frozen body allowed me to move, just far enough to bring a hand up to cup his jaw, to press back against his lips, to let my tongue dance lovingly with his -

Abruptly he brought his hands up between us and pushed roughly against my chest, and I was bereft as he tore his lips away from mine.

"Trip?" My voice was hoarse with emotion.

"I can't do this!" he gasped, standing up and retreating rapidly. I'll never forget the anguish and horror and fear I saw in his eyes.

In another moment he was gone, leaving me breathless and utterly confused. Perhaps I should have gone after him, but I was too dumbfounded to move. I might have had my silly fantasies, but I'd never believed for one moment I would ever truly feel those lips against mine. I felt as if the universe had played some kind of cruel joke on me, to give me one brief taste of him and no more, and I might have dismissed it all as a particularly vivid daydream but for the spreading puddle of spilled tea on my floor, the slight tingling in my lips, and the dull, empty ache in my heart.


End file.
